


Be Gentle, Sammy

by Taste_of_Suburbia



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Blood Drinking, Family, Healing, Horror, Human/Vampire Relationship, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Post-Turning, Romance, Sam Takes Care Of Dean, Season/Series 05, Uncomfortable Dean Winchester, Vampire Bites, Vampire Sam Winchester, bites, h/c_bingo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-12
Updated: 2015-10-12
Packaged: 2018-04-26 02:51:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,359
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4987306
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Taste_of_Suburbia/pseuds/Taste_of_Suburbia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean wakes to Sam’s head tucked securely against his neck. While Dean at first thinks he’s asleep, he soon realizes he’s up to something far more sinister.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Be Gentle, Sammy

**Author's Note:**

> Written as a fill on my h/c_bingo card for ‘bites.’ 
> 
> This is Season 5 AU, since it’s post-Ruby but pre-cure for vampirism.

Dean woke up in the driver’s seat to a warmth against the side of his neck. He stirred, trying to figure out what the hell was going on, but settled down when he realized it was only Sam, whose head was tucked against the side of Dean’s neck. Dean yawned and stretched, careful not to jostle Sam from sleep, then reached out a hand to push Sam gently away from him, who must have curled toward Dean in his sleep. The big baby. Sam wouldn’t budge, however, gluing himself to Dean, quick breaths tickling Dean’s neck. Nope, definitely not asleep.

He rasped out, “Sammy?” He winced at his voice, cleared his throat and pushed at Sam again, this time with greater force. Dean nearly gasped out in pain at the sensation of a tear in his neck, a sharp agony numbing out all else around him. The pain was tampered down when Sam filled the space between them again, so quickly and forcefully that he nearly slammed Dean’s head back against the window. “Sam,” his tone rose in intensity and even panic. “What the hell is going….?”

One of Sam’s hands covered Dean’s mouth. A warm, sweaty hand that Dean breathed hard against. Dean didn’t pull it away, nor did he try to push Sam away a third time. He figured it was either wait for Sam to finish or shove him away and possibly have his throat ripped out in return. So Dean sat there, waiting, eyes wide as he worked on controlling his harried breathing. At a point he tried to make out what Sam was doing, would have been able to if not for his little brother’s ridiculously long hair blocking Dean’s view. Now that Dean had moved there was a small, stinging pain where Sam’s mouth was, but mostly Dean just felt out of it.

A low moan emanated from his younger brother and Dean felt something which felt like a tongue lapping at his skin, Sam starting to pull away from him. He hoped that Sam would hurry the hell up, since he had started feeling uncomfortable way before this point and wanted this to be freaking over with already.

This was like living in some type of nightmare, except it was real. Sam had been a vampire for two-hundred and three very long days. When they ran out of blood bags stolen from hospitals, Dean often had to give Sam his neck without much thought about it, which put him in a very awkward position. It was only one-hundred and thirty days in that Sam had drunkenly told him that he loved the taste of Dean’s blood, as if it was the be all, end all to everything.

Dean figured he had an okay reaction, blanching and ruffling Sam’s hair before turning his neck away and crashing in the bed next to Sam’s. Though Dean started to think he’d gone too easy on him when half the week Dean woke up to Sam’s arms and legs wrapped around him, teeth grazing the side of Dean’s neck delicately or already buried deep in his neck, coated in his blood.

So now Dean was a human blood bag for his baby brother. It was either driving or eating or hunting or bleeding. The same as it had always been except for the bleeding part, except for the fact that Dean didn’t have much of a say when it was between being grossed out or keeping his brother alive and keeping other humans off of his menu. 

Dean literally jumped back to the here and now with Sam’s hand leaving his mouth, his eyelashes fluttering against Dean’s neck. There was half a kiss pressed against his throat but Dean still squirmed under Sam’s attention for something other than actively feeding. Sam relented, probably knowing that Dean was ultra-sensitive after feeding, and sat back, sighing contentedly. He wiped the remainder of Dean’s blood off his chin with the back of his hand, forgetting entirely about the corners of his mouth and his teeth. Sam had the good sense to sit back further, knowing his brother had been touched and violated enough, thank you very much. 

Sam tucked his long legs underneath him, smiling at Dean with bloodstained teeth. “Hey, Dean.”

Dean scowled. Really, that was all he got? Just a ‘hey, dean?’ No ‘good morning’ or ‘thanks for your blood, it was a good breakfast,’ or ‘sorry about that, Dean, but I was hungry,’ none of that?

“Jesus, Sam. You realize you could have nicked an artery and bled me dry?”

Sam waved him off. He looked drunk in the darkness, the moon through the windshield highlighting his dilated eyes and the blood still coating his chin. Dean shivered, putting a hand on the side of his neck and feeling for the two puncture marks carefully, as if disturbing them would make him bleed again.

“Oh,” his brother leaned forward, “let me….” Without warning his tongue swiped along Dean’s neck. Dean already knew what he was doing, his saliva closing Dean’s wounds but leaving the puncture marks there until several hours later, when they would disappear and leave no scars. Sam’s thumb brushed over the skin languidly then, as if trying to make Dean relax, knowing how good he was at doing it. He knew how hard it was for Dean to let his guards down, which was why he was always trying to squirm his way inside him.

Dean brushed away the disorientation and looked up at him carefully, never knowing whether to thank him or say nothing. He took it easy on Sam this time. “Thanks, man.”

Sam smiled again, but this time with his mouth closed. “No problem. If you hadn’t woken up I would have remembered.” Dean breathed in sharply at that and Sam’s head twisted until he was breathing against Dean’s cheek. “You okay, Dean?” His big hand held Dean’s side lightly, as if knowing that applying a little more pressure would push his brother away.

Dean let him and nodded, looking down at his hands rather than Sam’s abnormally large pupils. Sam was still his brother and he loved him, but he was hard to see him like this, knowing that there was no cure for this, knowing that if Dean died then Sam would really become a monster. Knowing that Dean had to protect him from becoming that at all costs. He rubbed the back of his neck absently, not able to stop himself from brushing over the area that Sam had just been attached to, still sore and throbbing if he prodded it too much. Sam made a move to pull Dean’s hand away, but Dean did it before he could. “Yeah, about that. Couldn’t you have waited ‘till I was awake or something? You know how it creeps me out, you feedin’ while I’m sleeping.”

It shouldn’t have been something that they needed to have a conversation about, but this was their world now. No turning back.

Sam brushed it off with effort. Dean knew he hated that Dean wasn’t into it. For Sam it was kinky and for Dean it was anything but. His brother’s fangs in his neck wasn’t Dean’s idea of a good time, and Sam often had to bite back a remark to prevent them from fighting. Maybe it was Dean’s fault for not being used to it already, even though he was, just in some areas and not others. It freaked him out that Sam seemed more comfortable in his skin now than he had when he was human. It freaked Dean the hell out even more that Sam seemed to want to feed from him all the time now. Who knew how many times Dean had been out and Sam had just decided to drink some of his brother, just because he felt like it.

“Chill out, Dean. It’s not like I took much. And don’t pretend you’re not weirded out when I ask you for it. This way, you didn’t even have to know about it.”

As if that made it better? As if Dean should enjoy thinking about Sam feeding from him? As if it was all some huge freaking compliment or something? It was the Ruby days all over again, except this time Sam was hooked on him and not some demon skank. Except this time Dean couldn’t give up and walk away. Except this time Dean could only sit back and wait until Sam changed him, both in a literal and non-literal sense. “But I do know about it, Sam. That’s the whole point. I just wish….”

Sam’s anger became the better of him and he lashed out. Sam was always so much more confident after he fed, his emotions taking him over way too easily. “What, Dean?”

Dean bit back. “I wish that you could just rely on me for what you need. While I’m conscious, okay? Like, not have to wait until I’m out for you to feel like you’re not buried under six feet of concrete.”

“It’s not that big of a deal. Okay? I was careful.”

It wasn’t about Sam not being careful though, wasn’t about Sam accidentally, in his haste, draining Dean too far or feeding from him too many times during the course of a single week. It wasn’t even about freaking consent. Dean did want to be better about this, to not tense and try not to show about fiercely he wanted to pull away when Sam made it clear he needed to feed and latched onto Dean as if he had been doing it his whole life.

He didn’t say anymore. Dean didn’t exactly know what the hell he could say.

“Stop picking at your neck,” Sam chided him, worried puppy dog eyes pulling rudely at Dean’s rigid control over his emotions.

Dean put his hand down without even realizing it had been at his neck. That’s how used to this shit he was, subconsciously knowing that Sam’s teeth had just been there, feeding from him _there._ Didn’t Sam get this at all? Couldn’t Sam at least try to understand his point of view?

He couldn’t though and no amount of sulking or tensing under Sam would change that. Like he said, Sam was in control now. He was the one who decided when the game stopped and started back up again. He was in control of his own body, dictating to Dean how much he needed and when he needed it. The rest of the time Sam just sat back, enjoying the ride, letting Dean pick the hunts because it was the one thing Dean could still have control over.

Sam’s eyes were on him, had never left him. Dean ignored him and stretched for a good few minutes, trying to work the kinks out of his back. They had been exhausted after finishing last night’s hunt but had decided to hit the road anyway, pulling over to a remote area barely two hours in and both promptly falling asleep. Dean was stiff and sore and he didn’t think he could drive, but Sam knew all of those things, already getting out of the car and going over to Dean’s side.

“Scoot over. You let me drive and I’ll let you pick where you want to have breakfast.” It was always their deal after one of Sam’s feedings. God, he hated calling them that.

Dean ate with much more vigor than usual at the first diner they came across, ordering a second stack of pancakes when Sam prodded him to. He was always starving when Sam fed from him, and if he ignored it or didn’t eat enough then he would have a splitting headache the rest of the day to berate him for it. Sam would always order an omelet, knowing it was healthy but not something that Dean wouldn’t touch. He didn’t even wait for Sam to push the plate over to him, sliding it over to his side of the booth and digging in as soon as it was plopped down in front of Sam, moaning around the melted cheese and perfectly cooked mushrooms. Sam watched him intently, hell-pressed to admit to worrying about Dean after every feed. That was always one thing about his brother, when it was about blood Sam was never guilty, but after the fact he would mother-hen Dean to death if Dean let him. In that way, his little brother was still all too human.

Sam sipped at his water, which was the only thing he could partake in other than blood. “I’ll rub some ointment on those marks later tonight.”

Dean nodded, not looking at Sam as he finished the last pancake, dousing it in more maple syrup. Sam always took care of him because he knew how weirded out Dean was about the puncture marks. He always took advantage of the fact that Dean never protested when Sam’s hands were on his neck, as if recognizing the harm he had caused Dean and wanting to fix it rather than sit back and pretend it didn’t exist.

As soon as Dean was done and the check was paid they left. Dean figured he could do with a nice bed and sleeping the day away. He didn’t bug Sam about taking the wheel again, letting Sam keep his keys as he rummaged around for a bottle of water in the trunk.

Sam hovered close. He claimed Dean’s human heat affected him in the best way. Sam’s skin was icy, so Dean never thought much of the remark. As long as Sam was still giving him some personal space, it was good.

“You up for some time in? There’s a town up a ways and we can just crash for the rest of the day. This morning should last me at least a couple days.”

Dean pulled down the trunk of his baby, flipped Sam the bird since he didn’t trust his voice to say ‘bitch,’ and brushed over the bite mark on his neck gingerly because hey, he wasn’t about to tell Sam to be gentle with him next time.

**FIN**


End file.
